Closer
by geckogirl
Summary: Years after the creature had found his revenge, he wandered-wandered right into the life of a young woman who accepts him and while keeping the secret of his nightly presence, falls in love. one-shot


All I wanted was to be closer. Is that such a crime? Every time I had even hinted at it, he would become furious and leave.

Always leave.

And I would be left, alone and with a little less trust each time.

Why did he hide in the dark- the lonely dark and shadows and leave me in the burning sunshine.

God, I haven't even seen his face but after weeks I think I love him.

I don't even know his name for he has refused to tell me.

And when I had asked him for a name the first time, I had heard it his raspy, light, and weakened voice that perhaps he didn't even have one even though he claimed he didn't want to tell me.

Maybe if I kept dancing for him every night or played my violin for him perhaps he would show himself to me.

Tonight was no different.

He played for me and I danced in the dimmed light, the moonlight filtering through the fluttering white curtains which seemed to wrap him in enough shadow to cover him.

And as always I finished clutching my heart in pain.

It was so weak and I was wheezing soon enough.

"You have overdone yourself again," he said softly walking over, careful to stay in the shadows.

I tried to answer that I was fine but ended up doubling over coughing.

Soon my legs began shaking as I finally felt myself speak.

"I'm fine," I said in between harsh quick breathes.

Falling.

Caught.

Still in shadow.

I coughed out a laugh.

He held me in his arms.

I was hyperventilating.

Though I couldn't see his face I could see long hair hanging- shoulder length perhaps. It was hard to tell.

He had tilted his head in confusion at the laugh.

"Your good," I choked out before feeling my throat begin to close up.

Why did my body have to be so goddamn weak?

He started to grip me tighter.

He really was worried.

I wanted to tell him it was normal.

It was good that I was finally pushing myself again, and was able to show my true ability.

But I couldn't breathe.

"Please don't leave me," he whispered.

I felt a drop land on my cheek.

How cute.

I felt my hand weakly reach up and touch his cheek in a comforting manner.

"I'll be fine," I rasped smiling.

I had felt his papery skin and a long running scar upon his cheek.

And he had not even flinched in his worry for me.

My hand stayed there, the fact that I could touch him now being the only thing that kept me conscience.

Then I felt his hand gently place its self over mine and clutch mine.

"I'm here. Stay with me."

I was losing to the darkness and sleep called to me.

"So…tired."

He then picked me up and carried me to bed, though moving quickly never once moved into the light.

My breath was beginning to return to me.

He seemed to notice and breathed a bit lighter himself.

It was then that I saw the mask hanging on my wall.

It was a creation of true beauty, painted a golden skin tone, perfectly imitating that of a man, except slightly evanescent.

"If you're so worried about showing your face, then you may wear that mask, "I said pointing a hand to the wondrous object on the wall.

He turned to it.

Then walked over, seemingly in wonder.

"I shall then."

"On one condition," I spoke, my voice still raspy, and breath still short.

"Anything," he said, his voice giving away his disbelief.

"You must either give me your name or allow me to name you."

"Of course…the truth is….I have no name."

I knew it.

"My father never gave me a name but I shall happily bestow that great honor upon you."

I laid back deeply into the pillows and thought.

He held the mask in his hands now, his position giving away that he saw this mask as the first gift he had received.

He was wondering if he should be allowed to wear it.

"I might desperately wish to see your face but I refuse to disrespect you in such a way. Put in on, "I said smiling still.

As if he were a child his hands and the mask rose into the shadows where his face was, the face that he had finally allowed me to touch.

And that one touch was a sign that he finally trusted me.

I must trust him now.

To show me his face when he wished it.

I could hear him tie the delicate silk straps and kept wondering of a name to give him.

I could name him after an angel but he had told me enough to know that wouldn't be appropriate.

He took a step towards me and I moved to the window, where moonlight shined though the glass-colored panes.

I could name him after the moon or the clouds for he only showed in the night, a hidden gem in the inky darkness.

No.

I had discovered he had trouble with the perception of himself being human.

He must have a human name.

Soon he stood behind me, in the light at last.

Long hair, blacker then the night sky went slightly past his shoulders.

The mask fit perfectly, and I could finally see his eyes.

It was if I could see into the depths of his soul with those now twinkling blue eyes.

Deep sorrow, and tremendous pain filled those eyes, and the momentary wonder and happiness he felt presently.

"May I embrace you?"

He nodded in compliance.

As I wrapped my arms around his thick rough traveling cloak I felt so small, insignificant in comparison.

I don't think I ever realized just how big he was, perhaps seven, eight feet. Who knows?

For a few moments he was still, almost as if surprised by the gentleness, but eventually I felt big arms begin to hesitantly wrap themselves around me too.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He was trying not to cry.

I could hear it all too clearly in his voice.

A name.

As we finally pulled apart and I saw the mask I was reminded of the incident in Paris, France at the Opera Populaire.

And The Phantom of the Opera that resided there with the mask that had come to symbolize him.

I had heard the stories they told about him, the horrible stories.

But most of them were false.

A woman, a friend of mine names Christine had spoken to me before in secret and told me of her angel of music, the phantom.

What had she called him?

Oh yes, Erik was his name.

He too hid himself from the world, but was a genius of sorts.

The man before me might not be a genius, but he would sympathize with Christine's angel of music I was sure.

And perhaps if I gave him the same name, and he met this Erik, they could laugh together for the fact that they both wear masks and are called Erik.

"Erik," I said softly, my voice merry.

"Your name shall be Erik."

He nodded again.

I took note that the only thing I could see was his chin and mouth which were the only parts of his face uncovered, showcasing well sculpted lips.

His skin was a bit odd though; slightly gray as if he was close to death and was held taunt over the muscle and bone, yet he was not old.

I assumed this was part of the reason he did not wish to show me his face.

"Are you going to stay with me tonight?" I suddenly asked.

"If you wish me too," he responded politely.

Always a gentleman.

"Sometimes I find myself glad I don't have any parents, because I am quite sure they would disapprove of having a man in my bedchambers."

I laughed slightly while Erik remained silent.

"I'll sleep on the couch."

I nodded and watched him walk over to the plush couch.

Carefully he removed his cloak and laid on the couch draping it over himself.

I moved from the window to a nearby closet where extra blankets lay.

Then carefully picking one up I laid it over him after pulling the dingy cloak from him.

"A guest here should at least be allowed a good blanket and pillow to sleep on," I said putting the cloak over a chair and then moving to give him once of the numerous pillows from my bed.

"Thank you, you've been to kind to me," said Erik sounding ashamed.

"Nonsense, you've been nothing but kind to me and the best guardian a young woman could get. I have never felt safer since I met you, and the nightmares have stopped since you began coming here."

I could tell he was blushing.

"You should sleep. Your aunt will be angry if you don't wake up in time for your lessons," the man spoke with a slight scold to his tone but humor as well.

"If you wish it Erik," I said, testing out his name so we might both become accustomed to it as I walked back to my bed and slipped under the covers my breath finally normal.

"Eve, if the nightmares come back, should I wake you?"

"No, just sit beside me and hold my hand, like you did the first night. And if that doesn't work, hold me close you and whisper that everything will be okay so I might learn to pull myself from the dreams with your voice."

"Like the second night?"

"yes."

He had been so bold.

Who knows what made him desire to comfort a young woman he did not even know.

I had a feeling that had been watching me for a while.

A true guardian angel.

I wondered as my eyes began to drift closed if I should tell Christine about him since she trusted me with the knowledge of her Erik.

No.

My angel would stay mine alone as I was his.


End file.
